But wherever the ripples passed, extremely subtle, irregular fluctuations of electric current appeared for the first time within the silver fiber optic cables connecting the cubes.
It was as if this data graveyard, which had been silent for three thousand years, was suddenly... disturbed by something that shouldn't exist.
After sailing for two standard sky island hours, the scene at the outskirts of the Mirror Abyss reappeared.
But this time, those floating memory fragments were somewhat different.
They no longer just mirrored the Silent Observer's past, but began to mix in some... unfamiliar images.
There were fragments of the Emerald Sea Spirit Race struggling to survive at the edge of the Star Abyss, afterimages of Thunder God Island warriors roaring and charging in the War of the Divine Kingdom, and moments of sweat dripping as Shandora craftsmen built the golden bell.
They were all scattered images from those archived "invalid possibilities."
“Data is leaking,” Abraham said, looking out the window, his gray eyes reflecting those flashing unfamiliar scenes.
“The isolation barrier of the Mirror Heart Database has developed brief fissures due to our replication. These sealed memory fragments are instinctively searching for a carrier... or rather, searching for an audience.”
A mirror fragment floated beside the ship's window.
Reflected in the mirror was a branch of the Spirit Race that had never appeared in official history.
Their translucent bodies swayed in the chaotic storms of the Star Abyss, yet they held hands and sang a kind of ancient harmony, the storm gradually becoming docile in their song.
Lu Duo watched with her emerald eyes unblinking until the fragment floated away.
“They... existed,” she whispered.
“Even if they were judged invalid, even if they were archived and deleted, those lives, those choices... they truly existed.”
“And now,” Yu Nian took her hand, “they will continue to exist. In our memories, in the data we bring back, and in the hearts of everyone willing to hear this story.”
The dawn continued forward.
More and more unfamiliar fragments surfaced, like a river of stars composed of countless forgotten possibilities, slowly flowing on both sides of the ship.
And deep within these fragments, even darker images would occasionally flash—
Those were scenes of the Observer Council executing Cleanup Protocols in the early days:
A certain civilization branch that strayed too far from the preset trajectory was enveloped by silver-white data streams, decomposed, and turned into primordial particles;
A certain experimental zone that produced too many emotional variables was forcibly reset, all residents vanishing into points of light amidst their confusion;
A junior proxy administrator who tried to resist was completely erased from the logical level, leaving no trace of existence...
These images appeared for only an instant before vanishing, as if the Mirror Abyss itself was resisting the display of these overly cruel truths.
But everyone saw them.
The air inside the bridge was as heavy as lead.
“This is the price of failure,” Garel’s voice was low. “Not destruction, but... being formatted as erroneous data.”
“That’s why we must win.” Blue Bird gripped the control lever, her knuckles turning white. “Not just win a battle, but win the right to write the story.”
Bai Cheng stood before the main console, her gaze piercing through the porthole toward the gradually brightening starlight at the exit of the Mirror Abyss.
By her ear, the oath of starlight earring grew slightly warm, as if echoing something.
Suddenly, a high-priority communication request popped up on the navigation screen.
Source: Nest of a Thousand Mirrors · Mirror Spirit Elder Council.
Bai Cheng connected the call.
A holographic screen unfolded, showing the aged and solemn faces of three Mirror Spirit Elders.
In their mirror-like pupils, the unfamiliar fragment images constantly surfacing from the depths of the Mirror Abyss were currently being reflected.
“Excellency Bai Cheng,” the leading elder spoke, his voice carrying a kind of ancient resonance, “the Mirror Abyss is awakening.”
“After the fall of Lord Silent Observer, we thought this place would only settle past memories. But now... it is showing us possibilities that never happened.”
Another elder continued: “Every mirror in the Nest has begun to spontaneously play these images over the past three sky island hours. We tried to turn them off, but the mirrors refused to obey—they insist on reflecting.”
The third elder's voice was the softest, yet the heaviest:
“Some of the images... are scenes of the Council executing Cleanup Protocols.”
“The Mirror Spirits have seen them. Many of the young children... are crying.”
“They ask us: If history is fake, if the future is designed, then what is the meaning of our existence?”
The three elders fell silent simultaneously.
In their mirror-like pupils, Bai Cheng’s calm face was reflected.
Bai Cheng was silent for a moment before slowly speaking:
“Meaning is not bestowed.”
“Meaning is earned for oneself... in every process where one knows it might be in vain, yet still chooses to act.”
“Tell the children that what the mirrors are reflecting now are all the ‘wrong answers’ that have been denied for three thousand years.”
“But whether it is wrong or not should {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} not be judged by the person who designed the experiment.”
“It should be judged by the living, using their own eyes to see and their own hearts to decide.”
She raised her hand, and the mirror shard left by the Silent Observer appeared in her palm.
Within the shard, the first batch of data summaries copied from the Mirror Heart Database was slowly flowing.
“We have brought back all the hidden records.”
“Within seven days, this data will be transmitted through the Mirror Abyss fragment network to every mirror in the Nest of a Thousand Mirrors.”
“When the time comes, let all the Mirror Spirits see for themselves, ask for themselves, and find their own answers.”
“As for us...”
Bai Cheng looked at the increasingly close exit of the Mirror Abyss on the navigation screen.
Beyond the exit was the real starry sky, not refracted by any mirror.
“We will continue to move forward.”
“To the next place that needs the truth.”
“To the next dark corner that can still be ignited.”
“Until...”
She paused for a moment, and the light of the galaxy in her silver eyes shone blindingly bright at that instant.
“Until under this starry sky, there are no more stories that need to be hidden.”
On the other end of the communication, the three elders were silent for a long time.
Finally, the leading elder slowly bowed. What was reflected in his mirror-like pupils was no longer confusion, but a determination that had settled for a millennium and finally found its direction.
“The Mirror Race will fulfill the ancient oath.”
“We will make every mirror reflect the most complete truth.”
“No matter how heavy that truth is.”
“No matter what kind of storm that truth... will bring.”
The communication closed.
The dawn just happened to sail out of the Mirror Abyss exit.
Starlight poured onto the bridge like a waterfall—warm, real, without any of the coldness of mirror refraction.
And behind them, the entrance to the Mirror Abyss slowly closed. In the final moment, all the floating fragments simultaneously reflected the same image—
The silhouette of the dawn sailing toward the sea of stars.
The flames from the ship's tail, reflected in countless mirrors, turned into a path of light spanning the abyss.
At the end of the path were the tens of thousands of lights of the Nest of a Thousand Mirrors, slowly brightening.
Bai Cheng withdrew her gaze and looked at the star chart that had just refreshed on the navigation screen.
The next coordinates had already appeared.
